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A TRAGEDY, 




BY MAYNE REID 



PHiLADELPHIA : 
PRINTED FOR THEAUTHOR 



rXITEB STAGES JOB TSINTING OFFICE, LEDGFR BUILEINi 
1849. 






LOVE'S MARTYR, 



21 SrageliB, 



BY MAYNE REID. 




PHILADELPHIA: 
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 



•UNITED STATES JOB PRINTING OFFICE, LEDGER BUIIJ)1NG. 

1849. 






11 

U 



CAST OF CHARACTERS, 

As Originally Performed at the Walnut St. Theatre, Phila. 



Casimir, a General in the Venetian Service. Mr. Jas. Wallack, Jr. 

Lorenzo, a Friar, and Confessor to Marinella Mr. Richings 

Caraffa, a Venetian Noble Mr. Neafie 

^^siL Mr. Wheatley 

Duke of Venice Mr. McKeon 

LuiGi, a Venetian Gentleman Mr. Stevens 

GiACOMo Mr. Leonard 

Marinella ...Miss Alexina Fisher 

Scene — Venice and its Environs. Time — 1400. 



OO 



LOVE'S MARTYR 



ACT I.— Scene i. 
Palace Garden. — Enter Caraffa and Giacomo, 

Caraffa. You're certain, Giacomo, she walks to-day 1 

Giacomo. Quite sure, my lord ; it is her daily habit. 

Car. Alone, think you? 

Gia. Not so, my lord. 

Car. Ha ! how ] by whom attended 1 

Gia. By her confessor, the Fray Lorenzo; 

Since the General 
Went to the wars, 't has been my lady's pleasure 
To be attended thus. 

Car. Hell hang the father for his courtesy ! 
You're sure she'll take this path ? 

Gia. She ever does, my lord ; it is 
Her favorite walk. 

Car. Away, then! here, a ducat — get you gone ! 

{Exit Giacomo. 
Now, by Saint Marc, I'm in a fever fit 
To see this saintly dame. 
For weeks 1 have not looked upon her face — 
And such a face ! there may be up in heaven ; 
There is not here in Venice other such ! 
The lips a pair of rose leaves quaintly curved ! 
Her eyes two liquid stars — brow swan-like white — 
Hair of the midnight's hue, and over all 
A robe of spotless virtue ! Virtue — bah ! 
It may be found in Parma making cheese. 
Or 'mong the highshod Lombards— u here the toil 
Of moiling life works out the sin in sweat; 
There's no such item in the mart oP Venice ; 
The month that followed on her marriage morn, 
The what with costly shows and masquerade, 
She bid full well to crown her sovereign lord. 
And ruin him besides : but now all's changed — 
For since his absence, she has kept herself 
More closely than a nun ; as I believe. 
By ihe advice of this same meddling priest : 
Well — well — there's fortune here — this pretty note, 
Which I have ope'd and read, a common trick, 



4 love's martyr. [Act 1, 

And sealed again — this doting husband's letter — 

Filled with soft speeches and confiding folly — 

Gives wholesome cause for calling on the lady — 

Sweet welcome intercessor ! Ha ! she comes ! 

And, as the fiend would have it, comes the monk 

In closest converse with her ! by St. Jude, 

Had I a wife of such a build as this, 

I'd have no priest thus whisper in her ear ; 

Who knows, but that old beads and scapular 

May love her too"? Mount Hecla's breast of flame 

Burns not less fiercely under robes of snow, 

Than Etna with the vine-wreath on his brow ! 

And such a sun to draw the fever out ! 

The very veins upon her ankle joints 

Seem dancing provocation, and the play 

Of those warm wicked eyes would melt the ice 

Of Alpine avalanche ! 

My countship for his monkship's privilege — 

Not having that, let's hear a chapter now 

From the confessional ! [Retires. 

Enter Marinella and Lorenzo. 

Marinella. What! love my lord ? 
Why, good Lorenzo, you do frighten me ; 
Be sure I love my lord — How could I else? 
All Venice loves my lord ! 

Car. (Aside.) There you make a slight mistake, I think. 

Lor. That is but admiration of 
Your lord's high qualities ; as we admire 
The sun that gives us lii^ht — the flower fragrance — 
' J'is not that love of which I question you. 

Mar. Oh ! then you mean the love I've read about 
In those sweet story books where it is said 
That all our senses are the slaves of it : 
The harshest sounds seem soft and musical ! 
The rudest picture seems a paradise — 
And all the air is fragrant when we love ! 
Tell me, good father, if all this be true, 
For I have never felt a love like this. 

Lor. Have you not felt at times a secret pain 
When that my lord hath smiled, or seemed to smile 
Too tenderly on others that were fair 1 

Car. (aside.) VV hat the devil is the old dotard driving at 7 

Mar. Not I i' faith ! I know not what you mean ; 
What is it, father 1 

Lor. " A passion strange, though natural ; 
And ever the concomitant of love : 
Without it love would change to simple friendship, 
And thus be robbed of half its sweet delight — 
Although it is a very thorn itself, 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 

Yet like the thorn — the guardian of the rose — 
It is love's sentinel." Its name is 
Jealousy ! 

Mar. Oh ! jealousy '? I've read — a fearful thing ! 
It often causes murders and strange crimes. 
Father, you could not think '? no — no — I'm sure 
I never have felt jealousy. 

Lor. So much the worse — alas ! my fears are right ! 
There's no love here. {Aside.) Answer me, Marinella, 
Do you not feel at times a happy yearning 
To kids my lord, your husband] 

Car. {aside.) In faith, a very interesting question 
To put to a wife. 

Mar. Be sure I do. 

Lor. — You do — you do ! 

Mar. Aye, father, what is there strange in 't ] 
I feel the same to kiss good brother Basil. 

Lor. Ha ! 

Mar. What mean you, father, by that exclamation ? 
Is 't wrong to kiss my brother ] I have done 't 
A thousand timrs. 

Lor. You must do so no more. 

Mar. And wherefore, holy father ] that good book, 
You taught me to obey, has thus declared 
That I should love my brother as myself. 
And why not show my love by kissing him ] 

Lor. Your state is changed, and you are now a wife. 

Mar. And why not novv, as when a simple maid'? 
I must not kiss my own dear brother BasiH 
My lord would even wish to see me do 't ! 
I'm angry with you. Fray Lorenzo, 
Indeed, J'm angry with you ! 

Car. {aside.) By the mass, a strange dialogue ! 

Lor. Alas! poor child, you'll have more cause for grief, 
When you do know why thus I counsel you. 
Believe me, 'tis with reason. 

Mar. With reason 1 v\ hat mean you, father? 

Lor. That the Count Basil — 

Mar. Speak, father, speak! 

Lor. Is not thy brother ! 

Car. {aside). Ha ! 

Mar. Father Lorenzo, what strange jest is thisi 

Lor. It were a cruel jest, if it were one — 
Alas ! it is no jest. 

Mar. Oh ! say not so ! say you are mocking me — 
For if 't be true, the truth will break my heart. 

Lor. Daughter, from childhood I have been thy friend, 
As long before the world had seen thy face 
I was thy father's — I have cherished thee 
With fondness little failing even his. 
Have I not, Marinella 1 



6 love's martyr. [Act 1. 

Mar. You have — you have ! 
Lor. Then thou believest me, I've spoke the truth. 
Mar. If thou say'st true, then it is true indeed ! 
Lor. 'Tis meet I should make known the nature of 
This strange revealment : therefore, listen me : 
Your father dying suddenly, confessed 
To me a secret hitherto his own ; 
That the Count Basil was not son to him, 
But privately adopted, to supply the place 
Of a male heir; 

For failing this, his title and estates 
With all the wealth he meant for you as dower, 
Plad else been forfeiture to Venice State — 
Here is the whole confession as 'twas made — 

{Showing parchments.) 
Your father's name appended, with his seal — 
You see 'tis as I've said. 

Car. (aside.) I'll have those documents 
Ere I am eight days older. 

Mar. It is — it is — alas ! poor Basil ! 

Lor. It was your father's latest wish and will 
That you should know of this — that knowing it 
You might treat Basil with such fair respect, 
As duty owing to your proper lord 
May counsel you. 

Mar. Knows my lord aught of this 1 

Lor. He nothing knows of it. 

Mar. Or Basil ] 

Cor. 'Tis only known to you and me. 

Car. {aside.) And me, your reverence. 

Mar. It is our duty, father, they should know it. 

Lor. Our duty as it was your father's will — 
And straight on their return they shall be told — 
But let us farther walk — I would confer 
And counsel you on this most heavy subject. 

Mar. Poor Basil ! [Exeunt r. 

Car. {coming down Stage.) Now, by the crown of thorns, 
'tis burning shame 
For me, a noble gentleman of Venice, 
Thus to be cornered, and perforce compelled 
To play the listener ! State secrets, too ! 
A history of fraud and forfeiture. 
It comforts me to know that these have oft 
Seduced m}; betters from the path of honor ; 
Another comfort springs from my mishap, 
These goodly facts will make the Duke my friend — 
And fill my slender purse with gold ducati; 
The Duke owes Casimir but scanty liking; 
And 1 do hate him in my inmost soul 
For many crosses he hath cost my life — 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 

The latest, bitterest, that but for him 

I should have had the sole and whole command 

Of this great enterprise against Milan. 

My hate for him is only equalled by 

My burning lust for her: 

If I could make him suffer in his wife 

' Twould be a sweet revenge ! 

'Tis plain she loves him not : she said as much : 

Her love was all safe lodged in brother Basil ! 

By all the saints ! it is the strangest case 

Of virtue I have met, and stranger still, 

If from such chaos I do not clip out 

A fortune fashioned so to suit myself: 

But see ! his reverence has ta'en his leave 

And straightway makes she back ! 

Come, cap and feather, sit as you were wont ! 

There's virtue in you yet ! Gods ! such a walk — 

As though the earth were proud to have her on 't ! 

Each step she takes, her knowing dainty foot 

Flings back the pebbles with a spurning pride. 

As though 'twas planted on a bleeding heart ! 

And when she smiles, the flowers ope their cups 

To catch new fragrance ! She is here ! 

Enter Marinella, r. 

Good day, most gentle lady ! 

Mar. Good day ! my lord, the Count Caraffa, I believe 1 

Car. The same, sweet lady, and your servitor. 

Mar. It is a very lovely day. 

Car. Lady, 
The sun seems conscious that you are abroad ; 
He flings his fairest beam upon your path. 

Mar. Your courtesy mistakes effect for cause — 
'Tis for he shines so fair, I am abroad. 

Car. Yet lady, on no fairer thing than thou, 
Deigns he to shine to day. 

Mar. My lord, is not this flattery 1 I do not like 't. 

Car. Then you're a miracle and not a woman, (aside.) 
No, lady, no : I never flatter. 
Or if I did, no compliment of mine 
Could flatter thee — a truce to this. 
I play the postman for your ladyship ; 
This letter (shows letter) from the general, your husband, 
Came with despatches for the Duke and Senate; 
It brings glad news to you — your lord has won 
A brilliant victory. 

Mar. (taking the letter.) My lord, I thank you. 

Car. Too happy am T, madam, thus to serve you. 
r faith she takes it coolly, with as much sangfroid 
As I would read the billet of a sempstress, 
Or a coarse weaver's bill for gloves and hose! 



8 love's martyr. [Act 1. 

No touch of trembling in her delicate hand — 
No bounding of ihe heart like one that loves ! 
Bah ! she cares not for him. Just bought and sold 
As I have heard — a legal prostitution ; 
Then must she fall — it is as sure as — (aside.) 
What news, sweet lady? how is my lord 1 

Mar. My husband's well. 

Car. " My husband's well !" By heavens, it seems 
To give her pain to say it ; that's not strange. 
I've known a score of them whom it hath pained 
To say " my husband's well ;" {aside ) 'Tis rumored that 
The general will soon return ; 
So says he, does he not? 

Mar. The day beyond to-morrow. 

Car. So soon as that ] Comes your brother f 
Count Basil, with my lord) 

Mar. He does. 

Car. You'll be right glad to see your brother Basil, 
You were such friends of yore. 

Mar. Yes — yes, my lord. 

Car. I, t(io, had a sister — but she married 
And soon forgot me, 1 believe. 
You areunwein 

Mar. A momentary dizziness, my lord ; 
I know not what. 

Car. Yet you are pale — pardon me, {taking her hand,) 
I'll kiss that hand though I shou d hang for it; 
If that succeed, the lips will quickly follow: {aside.) 
Allow me to conduct you to the palace. 

Mar. There is no need, my lord. 

Car. Nay, may it please you, madam. 

Mar. My lord, I'm well. 

Car. Nay, madam, do permit me ; 
I'll kiss the hand though it should burn my lips, 
For even now its soft and dainty touch 
Thrills like eh cfric fire to my heart ! 
Why should I fearl 'tis only fools 
And cowards that do fail in such a cause {aside.) 
Sweet lady — {kisses her hand.) 

Mar. {withdrawing it gently.) My lord, you've made me 
well again. 

Car. Ha! how? 

Mar. Sir, you have made me well again. 

Car. Can it be so that I have won her thus ] 
Yes, so ! they're all alike 
Since Adam had a wife ! {aside.) 
Then, dearest lady, grant me — 

(Attempting to kiss her.) 

Mar. Villain ! stand back !— my lord shall know of this, 
And punish you, believe me. 

Car. The devil! 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 9 

I did mistake this dame— 

'Tis wiser to repair this breach again— 

There's many a citadel safe proof 'gainst storm, 

Will yield to bloodless siege — I'll try it thus — (aside.) 

Nay, madam, you have punished me already. 

Yet, lady, hear 
A word that may extenuate my crime. 
Perhaps vouchsafe forgiveness. 
Since first I saw thy face, my soul was filled 
With love of thee — oh ! do not censure me — 
With equal justice might the magnet stone 
Condemn the steel that cannot help approach, 
Than thou be angry with my helpless love. 
'Tis thus I've erred, and thus I beg of thee, (Kneeling.) 

My crime shall be forgotten. 

Mar. Such rudeness, sir, can never be forgotten — 
If you're a man, your conscience enough 
Will punish you — let this be of the past, 
But for the future, sir. 

We may not meet again. 

[Exit L. 

Car. (Rising.) There you are much mistaken, let me tell 
you — 
We'll meet again at such a place and time. 
As you'll not shun me with so cool a scorn : 
The patient vigil of a heart that loves 
With its whole love, and hates with all its hate, 
Must sometimes reach its end; and I will risk 
My life to compass this ! Fool I have been— 
My headlong haste has plunged me into hell; 
And oh ! from such a heaven to have fallen ! 
Revenge and gold must hide humiliation — 
Gold and revenge ! I'll make a solvent purse 
Supply the place of an insolvent heart; 
I've two friends left — the Devil and the Duke, 
And both are powerful in Venice city. 
The Duke loves Casimir no more than I. 
Some olden quarrel 

Hath bred between them hatred cordial— 
I'll find an ally here — but lacking this, 
'Tis plain that he must suffer in his wife — 
She loves him not, and by the natural course 
Of woman's heart, she must be false with some one ; 
Who knows whol perhaps the new ex-brother; 
Ha ! 'twould be a rich revenge. 

Such men are best ill used 
When wedlock's confidence has been abused. [Exit. 



10 love's martyr. [Act 1. 

ACT I.—SCENE II. 

A Wood. 

Casimir, (without) r. Breathe your steeds, gentlemen, while 
from this hill 
We view fair Venice smiling from the sea 
A joyous welcome ! 

[Enter with Basil, r. s. 
Brother Basil, 
Is t not a glorious sight ? 

Basil. It is, indeed, my lord ! 
Cas. More glorious than war ! 
Bas. Dost thou think so, my lord ? 
Cas. In Very truth I do — a noble sight ! 
Look on it, Basil ! was ever warlike show 
So fair as this 1 " Here on the Adrian shore 
The villa lifts above the orange groves 
Its snow-white walls, that nestling seem to sleep 
Along the golden outline of the leaves. 
Like a pure virgin on her downy couch. 
Whose soft rebelling bosoms have escaped 
Concealment of the careless drapery !" 
Up from the azure bosom of the deep 
Aspiring walls with broad and bannered crests 
Pierce the blue heaven ! far as eye can reach 
The wings of commerce whiten all the sea ! 
And nearer still, a thousand gondolas 
With flags and gilded crests and joyous rowers. 
Come bounding o'er the waves to bear us back 
To our sweet sea-kissed home ! 
Ah ! Venice, smiling city of the sea. 
Thou ait a picture for a poet's heart ! 
Look on it, brother ! this the fruit of war 1 
No — no. 

Such bright prosperity is born of peace — 
War never nurtured Venice ! 

Bas. Pardon me, general, it seems somewhat strange 
To hear you speak of war in such a fashion ] 

Cas. It may seem strange — from boyhood I have led 
A soldier's life — and ever until now 
The trumpet's flourish, and the war steed's neigh 
Have been the sweetest music of my soul : 
But I am changed of late — and but that duty 
Summoned us forth to curb the Milanese, 
I had not donned these trappings willingly. 
From victory I never longed before 
To head me home to Venice ; now, in truth, 
I yearn right much to see her. 
Bas. Her ? Whom ? 



Scene 2.] love's martyr. 11 

Cos. Why, whom, good Basil, 
Whom bat Venice, as I said 1 

Bas. Or Marinella, as you thought, my lord. 

Cas. Well, since you'll have it so, my merry brother, 
Say Marinella, then. 
Ah ! brother Basil, could you only know 
The weary longings of a husband's heart ! 
To you the bivouack was but the scene 
Of glorious excitement, but to me — 
" Well — well, if thou didst fare the best in camp, 
'Tis my turn now ; and oh ! how different 
The interests that wait to welcome us ! 
You but return to Venice as a home — 
Rejoin your old companions and their sports. 
And soon art satisfied ; while I come back 
Anticipating joys of wedded love 
So holy and so sweet, that even these long 
And weary hours of absence seem to win 
Some title to our praise, whose hard restraint 
Has taught us the high value of our love ; 
Exiling us awhile, but to enhance 
The sweetness and the welcome of return !" 

Come hither, boy — 
Is there not a form in yonder balcony. 
Close by the Ducal palace 1 A woman's form. 
Do'st see it ? 

Bas. I see not that — I see a thousand forms 
Upon the turrets clustered, to behold 
Our triumph — but the distance is so great, 
I cannot separate a single one 
From the confused mass, much less bespeak 
The sex of it. 

Cas. Ah ! Basil, I'm sure there is a woman's ! 
My life 'tis Marinella ! Look again ! 
A scarf, I think — well 1 see'st it 1 

Bas. My lord, you must have sharper sight than I. 

Cas. No — no, my boy ; 'tis love alone 
Now lends me the advantage. 

Bas. Is that not strange 1 I've always heard, 
That love was rather blind than otherwise. 

Cas. A slander, boy ; or truth but partly true ; 
'Tis only blind to all the world besides 
To its own object, love's a very lynx — 
An argus. You cannot see her, then 1 

Bas. No, my good general ; but see ! 
The smoke upon St. Marks ! they've spied 
Your gonfalon. 

Cas. Aye, there's the gun ! 
'Twould glad me much I could forego this triumph ; 
I long to lay my laurels at her feet ; 
But since this may not be 'till we've upturned 



1^ love's martyr. [Act I. 

The sober city with our shows of war — 

I must endure it — th;it we may not fail 

In due respect, where most respect is due ; 

Bear this before, (gives letter) and say the writer comes 

Close on its heels. 

Bas. T will, good jjeneral ; adieu ! [Exit Basil, s. H 

Cas. Kiss Marin^lla, boy, and say the kiss 
Comes from her husband ! Husband — do I dream 1 
Ko — no, it is reality ! and she 
My wedded wife — my own dear Marinella! 
Husband and wife ! oh sweet and sacred sounds! 
In the vocabulary of the soul, 
There are no words of so endearing- interest ! 
No tie can e'er be wove around the heart. 
So sacrt^d and so strong as that which binds, 
The loving husband to his loving wife ! 
Oh ! Marinella, how my bosom yearns 
For the fond pressure of thy lovely form ! 
I'm yet but half thy husband — cruel fate 
That rudely tore me from thy soft embrace, 
Now brings me back — perchance that when we meet 
Our hindered honeymoon might be more sweet ! [Exit l. h. 

ACT I.— Scene hi. 

A Street — Grand Ovation and Procession of Troops. 
Ovation. 
Welcome back the heroes brave ! 
From tlie fields of death and glory ! 
Let their names for evermore 
Be remembered in our story. 
Joy ! the deadly strife is over ! 
Joy ! the victory is won — 
Joy I the maiden greets her lover — 
Joy ! the mother meets her son ! 
Welcome back the heroes brave ! 
Home re!urning. 
And to those who found a grave 
Give your mourning. 

Enter Casimir from a gondola. 

(From L. H. enter Marinella, Basil, Lorenzo, Caraffa, Luigi.) 

Cas. My wife ! my Marinella ! 

Mar. My lord! 

Cas. Give me sweet welcome, wife — thus — thus — 

(Kissing her.) 
I sent a kiss to you — did'st give it, boy 1 (to Basil.) 

Bus. My lord, you came so close upon the heels of it, 
I scarce had time. 

Car. (Aside.) He's lying now — he kissed her sure 
As I'm a two legged thing — I had found time 



Scene 3.] love's martyr. I^ 

Had I been bearer of so sweet a message. 

Cas. Well— well— good Ba^^il, you shall have forgiveness, 
For though you are my Marinella's brother, 
I'm jealous even of a brother's kiss — 
So now, sweet love, receive it from myself— {Kissing her.) 

Car. (Aside.) If you, my soldier, knew as much as I, 
You might be jealous of a brother's kiss — 
You'll find it out in time, perhaps. 

Mar. My lord, we are in company. 

Cas. Nay, these are comrades, dear. 
Rough soldiers like myself. 
Your pardon, my good father, do forgive me — 
I did not note your presence until now. 

Lor. My lord, I give you joy on your great victory ! 
It glads me much to see you safe again. 

Cas. 1 know — I know it does, my good Lorenzo — 
But say. 

How did behave our little caged dove 1 
Pined she much for her absent mate 1 

Lor. She did, indeed, my lord. 

Car. (Aside.) And you too lie, old greybeard. 

Cas. Come, dearest, tell me — speaks he the truth 1 

Mar. Indeed, I did so, my good lord. 

Car. (Aside.) Oh ! heavens ! Woman ! Woman ! 

Cas. But not as I — no — no — you could not, love; 
By night, by day, I've thought of thee alone; 
Reclining in the silence of my tent, 
Or charging with my squadrons on the foe ! 
The Milanes^e may thank thee, Marinella, 
For easy terms of peace — 
But that I hastened to return to thee, 
I would have razed iheir city to the ground, 
And driven the Visconti forth from Italy. 

Car. (Aside.) Here's a confession, or I'm much mista'en, 
Will help my purposes. 
You heard him, sir ] (to Luigi.) 

Luigi. 1 did, my lord. 

Car. Remember it — it may be worth your pains. 

Luigi. I will, my lord. 

Cas. Indeed, Milan has cause to thank you, love. 

You've made 
My steel as edgeless as a leaden wand. 
In Casimir, you've spoiled a soldier, wife. 

Mar. Nay, my good lord, not thus with truth accuse me, 
You've proveiJ yourself the soldier since we wed, 
And won a brilliant victory. 

Cas. I won a blighter one before we wed. 
In winning thee. Vv hat say you, my good lords ? 

Car. (Aside.) " Methinks you count your chickens in the 
eggs— 



14 love's martyr. [Act II. 

Take care, my brave, lest when the yolks be hatched, 
Your birds may turn out beasts with horns upon them. 

Mar. (To Casimir.) My lord, you make me blush 
Before these gentlemen. 

Cas. Nay, there's a constant blush upon thy cheek 
That T would kiss again, and thus forever ! 
These blissful moments, how much sweeter they 
Than the fierce joys of war ! 
How soft this snowy bosom when compared 
With the rude pillow of the battle field ! 

Unless the foe 
Himself should bring invasion on the State, 
I'll go to war no more. 

Car. (Aside.) I'm much mistaken, or you'll find enough 
To keep your hands from idleness at home — 
" Enough, meihinks, in looking to your wife — 
Aye — aye — 'tis all love now — enjoy it while you can — 
Make the most of it. I never saw 
A honeymoon of sweets that did not make 
A life of bitters — kiss on — kiss on." 

Mar. My lord, your marching must have wearied you — 
I pray you do come in ; refreshment waits you. 

Cas. My lords, I claim indulgence for awhile. 
Till I have doffed this panoply of war. 
'Twill glad me much to see you soon again. 
Yet, ere we part, let me invite you all 
In a less general and fictitious strain : 
Say come on this day week, or morrow week ; 
And let us make the day a holiday. 
It might be sooner, but meanwhile I have 
Some business with the State ; and as you know, 
It is my honeymoon ; I do believe 
That custom sanctions some slight selfishness 
Upon such rare occasions. 
To-morrow week, then be 't ; adieu, my lords ! 
You'll find a welcome whensoe'er you come — 
Adieu to one and all ! [Exeunt. 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT II.— Scene i. 

A Scene in Casimir^s Palace. 

Cas. (^discovered.) Thus ends my soldier life — is sheathed 
my sword — 
Not all the glory the great Csesar won 
Should tempt it forth again ! 
Heaven is my judge I never drew 't, 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 15 

Ambition urged in an unrighteous cause ; 
The laurels I have plucked grew on the path 
Of my strict duly ; now no more of war, 
Its glory and its guilt ! — the day will come . 
When those bright names, that like so many gods 
Now glitter on the pages of the past 
In blood-writ fame, shall be forgotten all ; 
And in their stead, the good, the truly great 
Alone shall be recorded ! 

Enter a Servant, l. 

Serv. My lord, Father Lorenzo does desire 
A moment's converse with you. 

Cas. Admit the good father instanily. [Exit Servant, l. 

Now, be 't my pride 
To seek an honored excellence in peace — 
I must not play the sluggard like my sword : 
'Tis labor sweetens life, and toil to me 
Has grown a worshipped thing. 

Enter Lorenzo, l. 

" tie 's busy with his thoughts, and by the smile 
Upon his noble front they 're happy ones ; 
Oh ! must T change their sunshine, into sorrow 1 
'Tis a sad duty, but if left undone 
That little cloud that like a speck appears 
On the far future, marked by me alone. 
Might dark and darker grow, until the sun 
Of his bright happiness is shadowed o'er, 
Perhaps obscured forever ! 
My friendship and my duty urge me on — 
My lord !" 

Cas. (advancing.) Ah ! how fare you, good Lorenzo 1 
You wish to speak with me ? 

Lor. If it so please you now, my lord. 

Cas. Most certainly ! upon what matter 1 

Lor. One that is dear to you, my lord, 
As is your life. 

Cas. Ha ! as life 1 
Think'st thou, my good Lorenzo, that to men 
There 's aught so dear as life ] 

Lor. To men like you, my lord, two things — 
A wife and honor. 

Cas. You 're right — indeed I think for both — 
Certes the first^—you may say dearer — 
Of these would you converse ] 

Lor. It is my purpose as it is my duty. 

Cas. Of one, or both ] 

Lor. Of both, for both are one in this. 

Cas. Both, I believe, are pure 1 



16 love's martyr. [Act II. 

Lor. As virgin snow — but 'tis upon the snow 
That darkest shows a stain — 

Cas. Speak on ! 

Lor. My lord, 
The easiest and most effective cure 
Precedes the malady — a remedy 
Too rarely ta'en ; 1 come not to point out 
A blot, but to preserve the purity 
Of page now stainless. 

Cas. That page is 7 

Lor. The honor of your wife. 

Cas, But that 1 know your holy privilege — 
But thatl have observed your well-tried friendship 
For our late jointed houses — your words, good father, 
Would make offence between us — 
The bare suspicion that my wife could err 
Can find no place within this bosom : 
It must seek meaner shelter ! 

" Marinella I 
He who could doubt thee were unworthy thee." 

Lor. Hear me, my lord. 

Cas. I '11 hear you patiently, good father, 
But do not couple doubt wiih her. 

Lor. My lord, 1 do not speak of probable 
But danger possible. 

Cas. 'I'here 's neither one nor other in this case. 

Lor. My lord, when nature 's human, there are both ! 

Cas. I cannot fancy nature more divine ! 

Lor. My lord, I came — 

Cas. You came to counsel me, and I am here 
To list your counsel, and to thank you for't — 
So, good Lorenzo, pray at once proceed — 
I 'U hear you to the end ! 

Lor. Lord Casimir, scarce two months have passed 
Since from these aged arms you did receive 
As fair a bride as ever blushing stood 
Before an altar : — 

'T was on her sixteenth birthday that she wed — 
It was her father's will that she should wed 
So young, as so it was that you alone 
Should marry her. 

Cas. Your argument] 

Lor. My lord, within the centre of a grove 
There stood a tree, by far more beautiful 
Than those that grew around ; — that its fair form 
Might not be longer hid, the owner came 
And cut away the grove that sheltered it — 
It was made manifest a stately tree — 
The world saw and admired ; but jealous winds 
Began to blow ; ahd its unpractised sinews 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 17 

Could not withstand the tempest's fierce assault ; 
Its £^reen arms broke — its roots g'ave way — it fell ! 

Cas. Now — the application ] 

Lor. My lord, you well remember 
How, till her bridal morn, this maid hath passed 
Her life] 

Cas. Well 1 

Lor. All of the world she knew, was what is gleaned 
Within the harmless range of rural life ; 
If sin existed, nought knew she of it. 
Except by books, or what the human heart 
Jtself conceives ; and hers was virgin pure — 
" As well the snow might gender its pollution." 
You married her — her simple dream was o'er — 
You brought her to the gay and courtly city — 
And freely now your palace doors are oped, 
And every giddy gallant of the town 
Hath access to your wife, her ear 's assailed 
With flattery — her woman's eye is fed 
With forms of manly beauty— dost thou perceive 
No danger in all thisi 

Cas. No ! not a whit of danger. 

Lor. You understand 1 

Cas. I understand, but not admit the argument — 
Had that rash husbandman 
But taught his tree to grow ere he exposed it, 
It would have baffled all the tempest's strength — 
Though that my wife is but a child in years, 
And in the usage of a guileful world. 
Virtue is too deep rooted in her heart. 
To be plucked forth by carnal conjuring— 
I '11 risk my soul on her fidelity ! 

Lor. My lord, be not too blind — 
Pardon the boldness of an earnest friend. 
I'm older than yourself— a wayward youth 
Hath skilled me craftily in woman's heart. 
And never since the first one guilty fell 
Hath it been found invulnerable. 

Cas. I 'm sorry, my good father, your experience 
Hath leapt to such coiiclusion — 
T 'would grieve me much did I believe it thus — 

I have a higher faith 
In that most fair and noble work of G^d — 
And as for her, the fairest of her sex — 
I would not, if I could, doubt '>!arinella. 

Lor. My lord, it is not doubt, but simple prudence — 
Had that rash husbandman, as you have said, 
But taught the tree to grow ere he exposed it — 
Had he but guarded it against the storm, 
While its green boughs were gathering new strength 



18 love's MARTYR. [Act II. 

In each successive blast — 

It would in time, unguarded and alone, 

Have stood defying all the tempest's wrath — 

I do not doubt the virtue of your wife 

To be of strength unusual in Jier sex. 

Who doubts the value of that diamond gem 1 [Pointing to the 

ring on Casimir'' s finger ."] 
If worn with care the jewel still may last 
A thousand thousand years, yet easily 
That gem may be destroyed— heat it but slightly, 
It will resist the flame — heat it still more. 
It may resist ; but fling it in the furnace, 
And it will melt and be as valueless 
As a poor pebble ! ISo is 't with woman's virtue ! 

Cas. Ah ! no — not always so, my good Lorenzo — 
I do believe her virtue sometimes is 
More like the golden setting than the gem, 
Which flung into the furnace but comes forth 
More pure than ever ! 
The course you counsel me is plainly wrong. 

Lor. Wrong, think you, my good lord ] 

Cas. I do, indeed — 1 '11 prove it if you will — 
And from this very diamond I will draw 
My argument. 

Lor. And how, my lord 1 

Cas. Answer me. 
Wherein consists the value of this jewel ^ 

Lor. Doubtless, my lord, in its 
Incomparable brilliance. 

Cas. You 've answered right — 
Where is its brilliance now "? [Covering the ring with his hand. 

Lor. It hath no brilliance now. 

Cas. It hath no value then ! this jewel set 
In its fair circlet, as you see it now. 
Is full of value and an ornament 
Upon my finger — now it is valueless 
As a poor pebble ! 

My wife 's a gem — a rare one all admit ; 
And you, forsooth, would have me, m'serlike. 
Shut up this precious jewel from the world, 
Lest that the world's bawd gaze should tarnish it. 
I tell you, fray Lorenzo, that the gem 
That will not bear ihe wearing is not worth 
The having of — my wife shall still go free ! 
"I'll trust her conduct to her O'.vn good head — 
Her heart will be an ample guarantee." 

Lor. My lord, I have no more to urge ; 
You 've had my counsel — let me take my leave. 

Cas. Stay ! 
By heavens ! you have made me somewhat jealous 
VVithout a cause ! 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 19 

Lor. Not jealous, my good lord, I would not wake 
The springs of that vile passion in your heart — 
I do but warn your heart against a cause, 
That such might ne'er exist. 

Cas. I find no cause — what would you have me do 1 
Whom would you warn me of? 

Lor, Of all, but most of all those who are dearest. 

Cas. Ha ! 

Lor. Ask the poor broken hearted husband, who 
Hath robbed him of his earthly joy, his wife — 
And he will answer, 't was his dearest friend. 
Ask the bereaved parents, who bereft them. 
They '11 answer you, it was their dearest friend — 
And she the ruined one, he was her friend — 
'Tis not the bold 

And published libertine that men need fear; 
For he hath rarely access to the hearth. 
And only from the hearth can hearts be stolen. 
The wolf comes in the aspect of a lamb. 
And gains at once admittance to the fold — 
He gains at once both confidence and contact, 
For without these there is no guilty love — 
Need I speak plainer ] 

Cas. You 'd have me then suspect my dearest friend 
Of plotting my dishonor ? 

Lor. No, not suspect ; suspicion argues crime 
And here as yet no crime has been committed. 
I 'd have your caution waked — the cause removed. 
That else may lead to criminal effect. 

Cas. The cause removed — that is, you 'd have me lock 
And bar my doors against the faces of 
My friends ? 
Or is there, ha ! is there a single cause ? 

Lor. Since you have pnt me to 't, my lord, there is. 

Cas. There is ! and who 1 

Lor. It is a duty I would gladly shun ; 
But 't is a duty, and — 

Cas. Then quick perform it, father ! 
For heaven's sake, keep me not 
In this dread agony of painful doubt ! 
Who is he I should fear] 

Lor. Count Basil ! 

Cas. Count Basil ! 

Lor. I 've said — though doubtless at this time 
Count Basil 's innocent, as I myself, 
Of wrong to you, or to your wedded wife, 
Who knows what fate is in the womb of time ? 

Two youthful hearts 
So lately joined by strange unnatural ties. 
And late so rudely severed — now may yearn 
To be united by a stronger bond — 



20 love's martyr. [Act 11. 

Here nature rules, volition is her slave — 

The close communion of the common hearth ; 

His hourly access to her eye and ear, -Xttll 

May bring about results most to be dreaded! lUI 

I tell you, my good lord, that you do stand 

Upon a precipice of fearful depth! 

'T is easy task yet from the giddy height, 

To take yourself away — no violence 

Need to be used — Count Basil 's your lieutenant — 

Upon a thousand pretexts send him hence, 

If but awhile, until domestic ties, 

Habit, like thoughts — perhaps that holy pledge 

That binds the loving husband to his wife. 

Have closer wove and bound your souls together. 

Cas. And thus in fear tha^ others mighl do wrong, 
You'd have me do a ffuilty wrong myself] 
Banish, on false and frivolous pretext, 
My truest friend, who scarce a month agone 
Stept 'twixt my life and danger? 
In doing so you 'd have me virtually 
To doubt the strength of virtue in my wife : 
I tell you, my good father, in this doubt 
There lies more bitter agony of thought 
Than in the known reality of wrong ! 
Where there's no confidence there is no peace, 
And virtue's valueless that will not bear 
Such slight temptation ! 

Though 'tis a thought that oft hath humbled men ; 
You cannot rule a woman's heart to love — 
No ! you may conquer worlds, yet not control 
The secret throbbings of one little heart ! 
What boots it if I lucked her borly up? 
Her appetite would still be free as air : 
And 1 should be, for all my petty pains, 
The Moslem master of a thing enslaved ! 
No, no, my good Lorenzo, I will not 
Turn Turk as yet — when you can teach me, how 
To lock the subtle soul up with the body. 
Then shall I listen to your counsel, father, 
'Till then, my wife goes free ! 

Lor. Enough ! my humble duty goes no farther ; 
My counsel has been vain, and heaven forbid, 
That future destiny should prove it worthy ! 
No, rather may my zeal be thought too blind 
Than too prophe'ic — once again, adieu ! [Going. 

Cas. A moment stay ! good friend, mistake me not ; 
Your counsel has been kindly, wisely meant. 
And though it harshly jars wi h mine own thought, 
Yet for the motive, take my heart-felt thanks! 
I do forgive you, for some bitter pangs, 



Scene l.[ love's martyr. 2^ 

Fresh started here — if time to come should prove, 
That I have held her too infallible 
The error done would sit upon my soul 
As lightly then, as would suspicion now — 
For either one would bring that soul to nought: 
As for my wife, you are her sage instructor. 
And have free access to her every thought : 
You are free then, as is your generous will, 
To guide and strengthen those good principles 
You seem so much to fear. God prosper you ! 

Lor. Amen ! my honored lord ! \_Exit Lorenzo, l. h. 

Cas. He hath waked a new string in my secret heart. 
And though but gently touched, its quivering 
Already makes harsh music in my soul ! 
But for his holy promptmg, I should ne'er 
Have cast my thoughts on issue so remote. 
The father hath experience, it is said : 
Deep skill inhuman, and in woman's nature. 
The arguments he urged, though my soul loathes 
To own 't, are full of truth ! now which is best 
To give his counsel thoilght, and yield myself 
Up to a groundless fear"? this course implies 
A doubt, and consequent admits the danger! 
There is no danger — not a jot of it ! 
Oh Casimir! this dubious wavering 
Betwixt suspicion, and confiding faith — 
Is' t worthy of thee — no ! no more of it ! 
I '11 clear at once my just and honest heart 
Of all dishonest thoughts, until 'tis pure 
As 't was an hour ago I 
Can I do this? already here 
There is a stuggle 'twixt my sense and will, 
In which the will is playing hypocrite ! 
It shall be so no more— come on then, truth! 
I '11 look you in the face ! 

Enter Marinella. r. h. 
Truth I invoked and lo ! 't is here indeed. 
With such a look of heaven as would disarm 
The fiend himself if meditating ill ! 
How fares my Marinella since the morn ? 

Mar. Ill, my good lord, that you so longf 
Have kept yourself away. 

Cas. But a short moment, love, I 've been 
In converse with the good Lorenzo. 
"And I have had some business with the state. 

Mar. My lord, do you not too much business % 
We have been lonely tor your company. 

Cas. Ah ! do not chide me ; my last act 
Was one that will enable me, hereafter, 
To give you all my time. 



22 love's martyr. [Act II. 

Mar. Pray, what was 't, my lord 1 

Cas Try guess, sweet wife. 

Mar. Indeed, my lord, I cannot. 

Cas. Well I will tell it you. I did to-day 
Hang up my sword. 

Mar. My lord, you do so every day — 
What is there in'tl 

Cas. I speak in riddles, Marinella. 
I will not vex you then, I only mean" 
I am no longer General Casimir, 
But a plain citizen — I have resigned 
My office to the Senate. 

Mar. Oh ! I am glad of that, right glad of it ! 
Though war is full of interest, my lord. 
Yet it is full of danger, sometimes guilt. 

Cas. Ah ! love, 't was thought of this and thee 
That caused me use my victory of late 
With so much moderation ; perhaps too much — 
I have some cause to fear : 
The Senate yet will censure me for it; 
The Duke 's my bitter enemy. 

Mar. Oh ! say not so, my lord ! 

Cas. We will hope, love — but no more of it now j 
Let us be gay ! what news have you tor mel 
You have not been alone ] you 've seen no doubt 
Some company to-day ] 

Mar. Oh! yes, the Duke Urbino has been here; 
The Delia Strozzi, and Fonseca's wife 
Have called to bid me well. 

Cas. No other company 1 

Mar. J\o, none. 

Cas. Has Basil been at home to-day 1 

Mar. Oh ! yes, he hath been with me all the day. 

Cas. How have you passed the time 1 

Mar. First we read Homer's iliad you know ; 
How I admire the old blind Bard of Scio 'J 

Cas. I too admire the poem — not the theme ; 
It was a causeless war, the guilty fruits 
Of an unholy love : Go on ! 

Mar. Basil read it me. He 's very good in Greek ; 
But we did miss your company, my lord. 
For explanation of those warlike terms. 

Cas. Could Basil not explain them ? 
He is a soldier. 

Mar. He said, not half so well as you. 

Cas. Brave modest youth ! [Aside. 

Mar. Of all the Grecian heroes, think, my lord, 
Which one in my mind most resembled thee] 

Cas. I cannot guess ; Diomedes or Ajax 1 

Mar. Not either one — pray, try again ! 



Scene 1. love's martyr. 23 

Cas. Not Menelaus with the wicked wife ] 

Mar. No— no! 

Cas. Nor Thetis' sonT 

Mar. Not he. 

Cas. The son of Peleus, then ? 

Mar Yes — yes, the brave Achilles : 
He was so valiant, yet withal so good. 

Cas. And who was like to Basil ? 

Mar. You 'II know I '11 say, it was the hero's friend, 
The young Patroclus. 

Cas. And who, sweet wife, didst liken to thyself 1 

Mar. I thought not of myself. 

Cas. I would not liken thee to any one 
In all the poet's story — thy form is Helen's, 
But thy soul 's unlike as heaven to hell ! 
The Sciot bard conceived no counterpart 
For mine own Marinella ! 

Mar. My lord, 'tis flattery ! 

Cas. No, No, 
The tongue was never formed could flatter thee ! 
Oh ! how her presence falls upon my heart 
Like the soft dew upon the drooping flower — 
Bathing with sweet refreshment, 'till my love 
Has ta'en again the color of the rose ! 
No more [Aside. 

Mar. My lord ! 

Cas. Well, Marinella? 

Mar. Are you not absent in your thought 1 

Cas. Pardon me, love, if I did dreaming seem, 
Thou wert the sweet ideal of my dream. 

Mar. My lord, I pray you do come in, 
'T is now the hour, and supper waits upon you. 

Cas. Go in, sweet wife — I '11 follow you anon. 

Mar. Then tarry not, my lord, for if you stay 
I '11 count the moments while you are away ! [Exit. 

Cas. How could I doubt this fair embodiment 
Of all that is most fair 1 if there exists 
In her pure soul a single thought impure 
Then hell and heaven have been brought together. 
There is a book writ by a witling scribe 
Who boasted his wide knowledge of the world. 
He says, that Eve was fairest and she fell. 

And from it would deduce 
That every woman is at heart a wanton — » 

ni not believe the foul philosophy ! 
It is the slander of a silly scribe 
Who travelled far to find a simple truth 
He might have learned at home ! 
No-— no — I'll not believe 't. 
Guilt cannot harbor in a home like this, 



24 love's martyr. [Act II. 

And even suspicion of it were a wrong 

Worth great atonement ! 

Away suspicion then ! let worst come worst 

With me shall be no doubt 'till crime come first. [Exit. 

END OF ACT II. 



ACT III.— Scene i. 
Senate Chamber — Duke and Senate in Council. 

Duke — My lords, ere we adjourn, 
It will be well to take some note of this : 

This paper holds 
An accusation of the gravest kind 
'Gainst a distinguished soldier of our army: 
Which, if 't be true, not only does concern 
The welfare and the honor of our Slate ; 
But must even reach the life of the accused. 

If it be false, 
Let the accuser suffer. 

First Senator. Who brings the accusation ? 

Duke. Count Julian Caraffa. 

First Senator. And against whoml 

Duke. The general Casimir. 

Second Senator. Let's hear the accusation. 

Third Senator. Let it be read. 
The Duke gives the paper to a Secretary^ who reads : 
" J, Julian, Count Caraffa, do accuse 
The Frenchman General Casimir of treason 
Against the State of Venice. 

If the Senate holds 
My charge as worthy, I do ready stand 
At their august disposal, to bring forth 
My witnesses and full specifications 
As proofs of this alledgement.'*^ 

Duke. How say you, lords, shall it be entertained 1 

First Senator. — I say, for one, most certainly. 

Second Senator. And I say yes ! 

Third Senator. And I. 

Fourth Senator. And I. 
« Duke. Summon Count Julian Caraffa. {To officer.) 

[Exit officer. 
It is, my lords, 
A charge of most grave import, and refers 
To our late enterprise 'gainst Milan — 
In which our interest has been betrayed 
By this weak treaty. 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 25 

First Senator. This have we heard. 
Enter Caraffa. 

Duke. Count Julian CarafFa, your charge is held ; 
And you have leave before this august Council 
To specify in full. Proceed ! 

Car. I charge the General Casimir 
With treason to the State — in this, that he, 
In sole command of our late expedition. 
Halted before the city of Milan, 
Even at the open gates, when 'tis well known 
That flushed with victory and late success, 
He could have entered it without a blow. 
And furthermore, that by weak armistice, 
He did withdraw our army without cause, 
Or cause but in himself, across the frontier ; 
Leaving thus, 
The ancient foe of Venice unsubdued. 

First Senator. Have you full proofs of this 1 

Car. His own confession. 

First Senator. Who witnessed it 1 

Car. The gentleman Luigi, and a score 
Of others, officers and gentlemen. 
Besides his own confession, I have proofs 
Enough i' the army — all condemn him for 't. 

Second Senator. When can you bring your proofs'? 

Car. When it may please the august seignory. 

Second Senator. Suppose to-morrow, my good lords? 

Duke. Be it to-morrow, then — and for to-day, 
Let me propose adjournment. [Exeunt Senators. 

Duke and Caraffa remain. 

Duke. You're certain, my lord count, you heard all this 1 

Car. As plain, my lord, as ever I have heard 
The bells of good Saint Mark's. 

Duke. 'Tis welcome news. I've longed this many a day 
To have a charge on him — this were enough 
To hang a dozen generals like him. 
But for his tampering treasonable peace. 
The Duchy of Milan would now have been 
A province of our State. How came the fool 
To prate about it 1 

Car. 'Twas to his wife he made a boast of it — 
Methinks he was beside himself with love. 

Duke. I've heard it said this wife is wondrous fair. 

Car. In my judgment, 
There's none so fair in Venice. 

Duke. Your judgment's good, lord count. Doubtless you 
know 
If she be virtuous as well ? 
2 



26 love's martyr. [Act III. 

Car. 'Tis said, my lord, she is, 
Beyond temptation. 

Duke. Ah ! that's not likely ! Well, I must see 
This paragon of beauty and of virtue. 
But come — let us be home — you're with me, count — 
Come dine with me. 

Car. My lord, I'll follow in a breath. {Exit Duke. 

So my revenge goes well — now for my love, 
Which is the strongest passion of my soul ! 
There am I crossed again, for it is plain 
She'll wanton with this whelp — her foster brother. 
Their early ties were scarcely snapped apart. 

Till in their stead sprung up 
A flame of love, like to the fabled tree, 
That burns where it is broke ! 
I've seen it in their eyes a hundred times, 
While he the soldier, husband-like, is blind 
As bats and moles. 

As yet they're baby innocent, but love 
Full soon will teach them cunning. 
Instinct will teach it her ; 
It is a devil's gift with all her sex — 
Fiends ! to be baffled thus by a cross love— 
For I do burn for her within my bones; 
But how proceed ] let me reflect awhile — 
My secret of the brother stil] is safe, 
And I must try its power upon her fears — 
There's virtue still in this — for I have known 
Weak fear succeed where strongest love hath failed. 
It shall be tried. For I will waste my life, 
Or both shall fall — the husband and the wife ! [Exit. 

ACT III.— Scene ii. 

Enter Casimir and Servant. 

Cas. There is no halting now — 
The journey is begun — the rugged road 
Of doubt now lies before — it shall be trod, 
And soon. 

Send the good father to me ! 

[Exit Servant. 
The proverb says no rose without its thorn — 
The fairest on the thorn most dangerous. 

If then beneath 
The rose that I have plucked there lurks a thorn, 
There will be so much poison in its pricking, 
That death will follow quick upon the wound. 
Oh ! these are bitter thoughts ! my soul is filled 
With arguments that like opposing waves 
Drive reason to and fro'— but yesterday 



Scene 2.] love's martyr^ 27 

No happiness in Venice equalled mine — 
And now who feels one half ray misery ? 

Enter Lorenzo, l. h. 

Ah ! father, you have come — 'tis well ! 
You may resolve me of one doubt at least. 
And [ must be resolved — I would not live 
Another day in such a dread suspense, 
To wear the Ducal crown — since yesternight 
Mine eyes have known no sleep — but like a bark 
High tossed upon the waves, my harrassed soul 
Has toiled upon a sea of agony I , 

You've launched me on that sea without a chart- 
Give me an anchor then, for my proud soul 
No longer lives in this uncertain storm — 
Give me a hope at once, or give me death ! 

Lor. My lord, all's well ! 

Cas, I must be satisfied that all is well. 

Lor. You have no cause to doubt it, my good lord. 

Cas. I hope no cause, and yet a cause I fear : 
I have observed some signs of change of late : 
Absence of mirth — a paleness unexplained — 
A slight confusion when their eyes have met : 
These might have passed unmarked, but for the theme 
Of our late converse. 

Lor. It is but fancy, my good lord. 

Cas. Th3.t. fancy then hath caused my heart more pain 
Than all the real it hath ever known — 
And for that very pain I'll know the truth ; 
It cannot be more bitter ! Answer me : 
For you and you alone can tell me this, 
And answer me, as though your life and soul 
Depended for their safety on the truth — 
Say — has she ever loved me 1 

Lor. iM y lord ! 

Cas. I know that she has given me 
Such love as women lavish on their lords. 
Whom chance or destiny has joined them to — 
'Tis sometimes friendship — sometimes only fear— 
I might, I think, without much vain conceit. 
Lay claim unto the first. 
But if 't be only that — 

Have I been loved 7 

Lor. My lord, how should I know ? 

Cas. You're her confessor — thiough her whole life have haci 
Full knowledge of her thoughts. 

Lor. 'Tis true— but love's a thought 
Not always the confessional can reach. 
How should I know 7 

Cas. Give me your thoughts, then 1 



28 love's martyr* [Act III. 

Lor. I think, my lord, you've been as fully loved 
As is the lot of the majority. 

Cas. Which simply means I've not been loved at all. 
Now, am I satisfied ! 

Lor. Not so, my lord ! 
Since you have conjured me to speak the truth, 
I would have said, I think, her love for you 
Was not that violent and o'ei whelming passion 
That o'ersteps duty — but a love as true, 
And of as high a value — a pure love 
That fairly nurtured, strong and stronger grows, 
Till habit makes it firm as adamant. 
'Twas knowing this I counselled you to caution ; 
Not that I feared a meditated ill — 
But nature, strangely erring in this case, 
Had given cause for prudence at the least: 
'Tis not too late — as yet there's nothing done. 

Cas. As yet there's nothing done ] 
What signifies that there is nothing done ? 
If there be something thought 1 'tis not the act 
Alone that makes impure, but the conception of 't. 
A woman may be faithless to her lord, 
With but a word, a look, a thought, aye ! false 
As if she had committed that which is 
Too gross for utterance ! 

It is not what is done ! 

Lor. My lord, you have no evidence, as yet, 
That you have suflfered wrong even in thought. 
They were but fancies you have late observed, 
Such as a mind, like yours, unused to wiles, 
Would conjure up : pray do not think of them ! 
But listen to the counsel I late gave : 
Send the Count Basil hence 
Upon some expedition of the State. 

Cas. And think'st thou, father, I could e'er consent 
To hold my heart in such vile vassalage ? 
To hold hers by a tenure so unsure? 
Tenant at will. 

To be ejected by the first rude chance ! 
No ! I must have a lease without a flaw — 
A lease of love that only ends with life. 
What were possession worth upon such terms 
As you propose 1 

Lor. And hold we life by tenure more secure 1 
My lord, with equal justice you may stand 
Before the cannon's mouth, when 'tis discharged, 
Or have your heart impaled upon the sword, 
Without the certainty of losing it ! 
Reject those fancies of the fatalist, 
And be yourself the master of your destiny ! 



Scene 2. love's mar.tyr. 29 

Cas. I'll first be master of its dangers, father — 
If it be (lark, the sooner comes the cloud 
The shorter the suspense : the prisoner who waits 
The sentence that may take away his life 
Feels far more poignant suffering, ihari he 
Who is condemned already — 'tis the change 
The passing from bright hope to dark despair, 
That sharpens suffering — while with despair alone 
The edge of pain grows duller, and we may look 
More lightly upon death ! 

Lor. My lord, you argue wrongly ; many men 
Have safely passed through dangers unawares. 
Which perils had they known, without a doubt. 
They would have perished by. 

Cas. But I do know there's danger in my path ; 
My purpose is to fathom its extent — 
'Tis only cowards, father, who do shrink 
From knowledge of to come — be 't good or ill 
There is a fascination in the end 
That leads us on to it, as he who stands 
Beside the precipice, is lured to plunge 
Into the abyss, from very fear of falling ! 
You said I stood upon a precipice — 
You spoke the truth, yet ere I now recede 
I must look down into the depth below. 

Lor. Rash man, beware ! — tempt not your fate 
If you should fall — 

Cas. 'Tis better fall than stand in fear of falling ! 

Lor. If you should fall — yourself have been 
The maker of your destiny. \_Exit. 

Cas. No, she has never loved me — bitter thought — 
A willing father — an obedient child — 
Oh ! misery, had I but thought of this, 
I might have shunned thee still ! 
But how act now 1 as he would have me ? No ! 
What! thus to play at love's diplomacy 
With mine own wife 1 — now jealous — now secure — 
To lock her up at will — to let her forth 
But when I can be nigh to spy on her 1 
To bar my doors up against every one 
Who wears a handsome ftce 1 drive from my house 
My best and truest friend, my more than brother ] 
Far sweeter were a life without a love, 
Than such a love as this! 

No! let the jealous Greek 
Who gladly took his wife back, secondhand, 
Make compromise in such intriguing terms — 
I'll have no jealousy — the proofs of broken faith 
{Shall be the speedy harbingers of death. [Exit. 

END OF ACT III. 



30 love's martyr. [Act IV. 



ACT IV.— Scene i. 
Palace Garden — Enter Caraffa. 

Car. I think 'tis time my thievish knave had come ; 
If he but get the papers all is safe. 
By this she is alone — and should she fail 
To take her daily walk, • 

In her own dainty chamber shall I seek 
This saintly dame — force now must be my friend — 
I've tried all wiles, and proved her double proof. 
By Janus, here's my thief, 

And with a conqueror's smile upon his face — [Enter Giacomo. 
Well, Giacomo, you've got them? 

Gia. I have, my lord. [Gives Papers, 

Car. The very documents — but of the lords 1 
When went they hence ] 

Gia. An hour ago, my lord. 

Car. The devil's luck! they may return full soon ; 
And your lady, think you she will come forth ? 

Gia. Immediately, my lord; now as I passed 
I saw my lady making preparation 
To take her daily walk. 

Car. Good ! Vou may begone — I'd speak with her ; 
Go hide yourself; you shall be well rewarded. 

Gia. My lord, I'll trust to you. [Exit Giacomo. 

Car. Now all goes smoothly on — she'll soon be here : 
By Jove, it is a fitting place for love 
Among these blooming roses; such a spot 
As Jove himself would choose to spend an hour in 
In dalliance with his Leda — ha! she's here ! 
My blood is boiling, and my giddy brain 
Reels at the thought, that heaven is so near ! [Retires watching. 

Enter Marinella. 

Mar. I do remember when Lord Casimir 
First came to woo me, he too then was sad ; 
And when I asked him of his reason, said, 
I would not think of him when I was wed — 
I would not love him as I'd done before — 
'Tis true I do not feel for him the same — 
It is another feeling fills my heart, 
So strange and undefined, 'tis like a dream ; 
At times [ almost wish he were away. 
And yet I am unhappy when he's gone ? 
Oh ! no, it cannot be that guilty love. 
The good Lorenzo counselled me against : 
It cannot be, no — no ; it must not be ! 
For since I may not love him as a brother, 
I must not — dare not love him. as another! 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 31 

Car. {Coming down.) Sweet lady, you seem somewhat sad, 
For such a blithesome morn'? Mayhap I may 
Console your ladyship] 

Mar. My lord, I know not why 
You have intruded on my path again — 
It shall be better guarded for the future. [Going. 

Car. (Stopping her.) First, madam, would I speak a word 
Meant for your private hearing. 

Mar. There's nothing private, sir, 'twixt you and me : 
You have already sacrificed respect. 

Car. Then madam, 'tis your turn 
To make a sacrifice — upon love's altar. 

Mar. Sir ! 

Car. To be plain with you, 
I'd hold communion with those coral lips. 

Mar. My lord, permit me to return. 

Car. Not 'till you've looked into these documents : 
This is the title deed of an estate 
Upon the Brenta : doubtless you know where 1 
This the confession of its lord, your father, 
Which says, his son is not his son; 
You understand 1 

Mar. That you have stolen them 1 I do. 

Car. No matter how acquired — they now are mine. 

Mar. Well sir, keep them ! what matters it to rae 1 

Car. This, madam, 
That I do love you with as fierce a love, 
As ever burned in an Italian's breast ; 
That I have here the power ere sunset falls 
To strip the baby Basil and yourself. 
Of every ducat in your father's will : 
Now in exchaage for it, if you but smile 
On my devoied love — if you but yield — 
These documents shall be destroyed, e'en now 
Before your face. 

Mar. Base thieving villain ! shallow as the trick 
Thy monstrous heart conceived ! 

Think'st thou we meant to keep what was not ours 1 , 

The documents which you have meanly filched 
To-morrow had been placed in the Duke's hands. 
You, sir, yourself may bear them to him now ; 
Yon, such a famous postman ! 

Car. Then if this move you not, still further hear ; 
Your husband's life 

Mar. My husband ! name him not ; if he were here 
You dare not look upon his face and live ! 

Car. Know, that your husband's life is in my hands. 

Mar. How, sir? 

Car. He is accused of treason to the State. 
Mar. Base thief, 'tis false ! treason could not exist 
Within the heart of Casimir ! 



32 love's martyk. [Act IV. 

Car. 'Tis true, and I 
Am the sole witness can condemn him. 
If you but love me then, sweet Marineila, 
Your husband shall go safe. 

Mar. This is a shallow lie that you have told — 
And if 't were true, my lord would rather die 
Than I should barter but a single kiss 
With such a wretch to save him ! 

So, sir, let me pass ! {Going.') 

Car. Never ! till I have satisfied my love 1 
You need not frown, nor pout. I am not come, 
Believe me, to be scorned a second time. 
You need not scream — there's no one near — 
We'll not be interrupted ! 

Mar. Villain ! stand from my path ! 

Car. Nay not so fast, sweet devil ! first a kiss — 

{Attempting to kiss her.) 
Another, and — 

Mar. {Escaping from him.) Oh ! heaven protect me ! ho ! 
within — help ! help ! 
Basil ! my lord ! Lorenzo ! help ! 



Car. The fiends ! 

Cas. Am I awake'? or is it all a dream? 
Am I in Venice or among the Turks ] 
Foul castaway of God, who are you ? Ha ! 
My lord, the Count CarafFa ! 
Does your lordship mistake my palace for 
A Burdel 1 my garden for the street] my wife — 
What does it mean] Speak, Marineila. 

Mar. That that base wretch, my lord, has vilely dared — 

Cas. Enough ! 

Bas. {Drawing his sword.) Draw, sir ! (to Caraffa.) 

Cas. No, boy, this quarrel's mine — bee you !o her ; 
Conduct her in. 

This is my privilege — a hushancTs arm 
Should always he the foremost to avenge 
His wife's insulted honor ! [Exeunt Bas. and Mar. 

Now, sir, have you a sword ] 

Car. See for yourself! 

Cas. You cannot draw 't too soon, if you would not 
Be butchered like a dog — you wish, no doubt, 
To die a gentleman — you are not one ; 
But by the common fashion recognised, 
We'll give you leave to die as such — Draw ! 

Car. My lord, I see you're thirsting for my life — 
Perhaps when you have heard what I do know. 
You'll turn your sword against a nearer friend. 

Cas. Fiend, what dost thou know ] 

Car. Though I have played the pari of Sextus here — 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 33 

Your wife is not Lucretia in the game — 
She's false to you at least — Count Basil knows. 

Cas. Liar and dog ! 
(They fight a few passes. Casimir runs him through.) 

Car. Curses on you ! — be furies in your life ! 
'Tis true, Lord Casimir, she's false — she's false. 

Cas. Upon the brink of hell thou liest, accursed fiend ! 

Car. Go home, my cuckold lord — go home — go home ! 
You'll find Count Basil in her warm embrace. 
Oh ! oh! curses — false — false — [Dies. 

Cas. f^lave doubly damned, thou diest with a lie 
Upon thy lips to give thee pass to hell ! 
Was it a liel Could this fiend speak the truth? 
If there be truth in man, it should appear 
At such a time ! but be they true or false. 
His words have plunged me in a fiercer hell 
Than that to which I've sent his guilty sduI ! 
" Your wife was false to you, and with Count Basil." 
Accursed fiend, I say again thou liest ! 
And if my eyes informed me of such truth, 
I'd tear the senses forth for mocking me ! 
Oh! 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Lor. My lord, what hast thou done I 

Cas. I slew that wretch, who would have wronged my wife ; 
Who told me ere he died, that she was false 
With the Count Basil. 

Lor. He lied! 

Cas, You're sure he lied "? I conjure you as you do love your 
life 
To speak the truth — you're sure he lied 1 

Lor. As my soul lives, I do believe he lied ; 
He was an idle braggart, my good lord, 
Whose word in Venice, spite of his high place, 
Was not worth half a ducat. 

Cas. Yet with these bilter words 
The wretch breathed forth his last ! 

Lor. It is not strange, and only proves 
Him the more hardened villain ; many times 
Beneath the axe, its etlge upon their necks, 
Have lesser villains boasted of their crimes 
And died most unrepenting. 

Cas Ha ! I had forgot ! how came he then 
To know that she was not Count Basil's sister 1 
Not knowing this, he would not then — 

Lor. My lord, he knew all this ; by some foul means 
He gained possession of those documents. 
They're even now upon him. 

Cas. {leaking the papers from Caraffa.') True — true ! 

Lor. Besides, my lord, as you yourself do know, 
2* 



34 love's martyr. [Act IV. 

He bore a rooted enmity to you, 

And 'twas in vengeance he hath thus declared. 

Cas. I never did him injury. 

Lor. Your smiling fortune injured him. 
He envied you, bat envied most of all 
Your rich possession of so fair a wife. 
Whom he did love with all that fierce desire 
That burns within the breast of lustful man — 
A passion, my good lord, whose fearful strength 
Hath oft unseated reason. 

Cas. I nothing knew of this ! 

Lor. Nay more, what I have lately heard — 
This monster once before 
Did offer insult to your noble lady ; 
Which she with such high dignity repelled 
As bred within'him purpose of revenge. 

Cas. Oh ! damned villain ! 

Lor. These things from prudent motives she concealed 
Save from myself; 

Then think'st thou that an enemy like this — 
A fiend who had not one redeeming gift — 
Is like be pleased to die, at your sword's point, 
With truth upon his lips to comfort you I 

Cas. Father, I thank you for those soothing words! 
Still there is doubt — one course alone is left ! 
Mine eyes themselves shall be my v/itness proof — 
I'll watch each action with the tiger's stealth 
Till I am satisfied ! 

I care not that the sight may strike me blind, 
If I look on the act 1 

Lor. My lord, this course is wrong — unworthy of 
Your noble nature. 

Cas. Admit it wrong ; there is no other left ! 
In such a case as this 
Our judgment is dethroned — the senses are 
The only proofs can ever satisfy 
A doubting husband's heart ! If I prove wrong 
Name not the measure of my just atonement; 
This heart will do more pennance at the shrine 
Of outraged confidence, than ever heart 
Before conceived ! I'll square me up with faith ! 

Lor. Oh ! heaven grant 
That there be need for such a reckoning ! 
My lord, Count Basil comes, I take my leave. [Exit. 

Enter Basil. 
Basil. My lord, I come to bid farewell to you. 
Cas. Farewell ! 

Bas. Yes, my good lord, I have resolved 
To leave you for a while. 

Cas. And whither croest thou, Basil ? 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 35 

Bas. To France, my lord. 

Cas. Can it be that he fears detection, 
And guilty flies — down — down suspicion ! (aside.) 
Is not your going somewhat hasty, Basil 1 

Bas. I have been bent on it some time, my lord. 
I would not waste my youth's best blood 
In idleness, which I must haply do 
Remaining here in Venice. 

Cas. Why hast thou chosen France ? 

Bas. I wish to draw my sword in France's cause 
Against our natural foe, the Austrian : 
Besides, the land of France is dear to me 
By many ties ; it was 
My father's — foster father's native land : 
'Tis yours, my lord. 

Cas. Thou hast chosen thy service well ; 
And now before 50U leave us come again, 
That I may give you letters to King Francis, 
With such report from me, your latest general, 
As may be need for your more sure advancement. 

Bas. Aly lord. 
It is the very favor that I meant 
To sue you for. 

Cas. Slight favor, boy ! You'd bid farewell 
To Marinella'? She is within. [Exit Basil, r, 

'i'he time hath come to pluck this damning doubt 
Forth from my heart, and plant within its place 
Either the deadly poison of despair. 
Or happiness an angel's self might envy I 
If there hath ever passed an act of love 
Between him and my wife, it will appear 
At this leave taking, and myself shall be 
A witness of''t. Oh ! Casimir ! 
Where — where is all that noble nature now 
For which men honored thee ] The veriest slave 
That feeds upon my bounty, now may claim 
More nobleness than I. Oh ! 1 do call 
All heaven to judge I cannot help myself; 
This opportunity ne'er offers more ; 
And should I pass it now, the doubt would still 
Live in my heart, and like a poisoned thorn 
Keep rankling there for life. Enough! I'll go! [Exit. 

END OF ACT IV. 



36 love's martyr. [Act V. 

ACT v.— SCENE I. 

Chamber in Casimir's Palace. — Enters Marinella, 

Marinella. My fears are now confirmed, and I have found 
The secret of my heart — 'tis idle now 
To play the hypocrite, with mine own thoughts : 
In vain I try to banish from my breast 
Those feelings strange— they but return again — 

Oh I I am lost ! 
Yes — lost to happiness, but not to honor. 
This heart shall cease to beat 
Ere it prove false unto the sacred vow 
That binds me to my lord — What do I say ? 
Am I not false already 1 Swore I not 
Upon my bridal morn to love my lord J 
I did — I did ! I call to witness heaven, 
Before whose presence it was registered. 
That I knew not the nature of that oath ! 
The secret and the suffering be mine. 
Mine, mine, alone ! let it be buried here. 

Oh ! would that he 
Would seek a home in some far distant land. 
That we might never meet on earth again ! 
How if I made my secret known to him 
And from his generous heart claim in return 
This sacrifice ?— it shall be done ! 

Enters Basil, l. 

Basil. Good day, my lady ! 

Marinella. " Aly lady" — How cold he speaks to me. [Aside 
Good day, Count Basil ! 

Bas. I came to take my leave of you. 

Mar. Leave ! what means' t thou, Basil 1 

Bas. I purpose leaving Venice — 
I come to bid farewell to you. 

Mar. Can he have known my thoughts 
Thus to anticipate my latest wish ! [Aside 

And whither goest thou, Basil 1 

Bas. To France ; I go to join 
The army of her king. 

Mar. The very course I would have counselled him. 
How easy is this parting hour to him — 
Oh ! little knows he what it costs this heart 
To say farewell to hmi. [Aside 

This is a sudden resolution, Basil — 
How long, think'st thou, wilt thou be gone 1 

Bas. I cannot tell how long — perhaps forever. 

Mar. Forever ! 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 37 

Bas. 'Tis better far I never should return. 

Mar. Ha ! thou speakest strangely — evil fortune 
Has sure befallen : May I not know it, Basill 
My lord will be your friend, and so will I. 

Bas. Thanks, thanks ! — 
It is an evil fortune where no friend 
Could bring relief. 

Mar. Basil, you make me sad — there was a time 
When you would have confided this to me. 

[Enters Casirnir, listening. 

Bas. Shall I go forth, my exile unexplained, 
As though T had committed some gross crime 
I dare not tell to her, who all my life 
Has been the echo of my every thought '? 
Siie shall know all — the secret will not stay 
A moment longer in my bursting heart. [Aside. 

But promise to forgive me, I will speak 
The cause of my departure ] 

Mar. Forgive you, Basil ? 
I know you would not give me such offence, 
As might require forgiveness. 

Bas. It is — that I do love you, JMarinella, 
Not with that sweet afTection, I once felt, 
But the strong pas&ionate love that lovers feel. 
Oh I do not censure me — as I do live 
The fault rests not with me — reproach me not — 
For I have erred but with a helpless fate. 

Mar. Smce it is thus, Count Basil, it is well— > 
You have resolved, in leaving Venice, well. 

Bas. For the dear friendship of our youthful years, 
I could not thus go forth upon llie world 
And leave to you such action unexplained. 

Mar. And is it fair since he hath thus disclosed 
Th.'it I should play the hypocritp, and hide 
My heart from him? my cup of misery 
Is far less bitter now to bear than his I 
It shall not be ! no, let the dregs be mixed 
That both niay share their equal bitterness I 
There is no wrong ! it is to him alone 
That it may lighten oft his long lone hours 
Of absent Jite ; I cannot help myself; 
I must speak out, (aside.) Basil ! 

Bas. Madam? 

Mar. I too have found a secret, I liave longed 
Much to disclose to you. 

Bas. To me 1 

Mar. To you alone. I need not ask of you 
That it be kept a secret from the world : 
'Twas half my purpose, ere you told your love, 
To make this strange confefcsion, 



38 love's martyr. [Act V. 

And from your generous heart to ask of you, 
What youv'e already purposed, 
That we should part to meet no more on earth — 
'Tis what I would have asked, as the return 
Of my unhappy love ! 

Bas. Your love ? for me ? is 't possible ? 

Mar. Alas ! — alas ! 

Bas. Oh ! Marinella, do not tell me this ! 
Oh ! fatal destiny, all, all undone ! 
I thought the misery was mine alone, 
But you too now must share it, and perchance 
Lord Casimir 

Mar. No — never, Basil ! 
Be i:; our sacrifice as 'tis our secret — 
If we've been guilty m this hapless love, 
Let us make such atonement as we may ; 
Tho'Vgh in tliis life we cannot rule our hearts, 
I am at least the mistress of my will 
As you of yours art master — we'll use their power 
To save our honor and his happiness. 

Bas. We will ! 

Mar. Let us forever part. 

Bas. Forever ! 

Mar. Go forth upon the world — a life of change, 
If it should not destroy this hapless flame 
In time - — 

Bas. (^h — never, never ! 

Mar. Hope, Basil, hope. 
For me, be it my struggle to forget you. 

Bas. Oh ! cruel fate ! 

Mar. My only joy will be to cherish him^ 
With duty that will rival love itself: 
And though the smiles I wear belie my heart, 
'Twill break ere I betray it ! 

Bas. Oh, noble Casimir ! 
'Tvvould break his heart to know of this. 

Mar. He never shall ! Surely there is no guilt 
In such hypocrisy, whose only end 
Is my lord's happiness. 

Bas. Oh ! Marinella, would that you could love him ! 

Mar. Perhaps in after years. 

Bas. In after years ? 

Mar. The friendship I now feel may turn to love : 
??o said Lorenzo — I am little skilled 
In the heart's history. 

Bas. Heaven make it so ! 

Mar. And now farewell forever ! 

[Exeunt Marinella r. Basil l. 

Casimir. {Comes down the stage.) There's no revenge in this! 
In any case, the wronger's blood 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 39 

Is but poor medicine to heal the heart 
Of him who has been wronged. 

That parting" scene 
Hath robbed my dagger's point of all its power — 
Unless that I should turn it on myself — 
Perhaps 'twere better so — this wedge of steel, 
In passing through my heart, could not inflict 
Within its bleeding strings one half the pang 
I feel already ! 

Now there 's but one course left for me — to die ! 
The rose-wreathed pedestal on which I stood 
Is crushed beneath my feet ; and I have fallen 
Amidst the wreck of thorny desolation ! 
But how to die 1 By this ? by poison ] No ! 
I will not have it writ 
Upon my epitaph, that I did die 
The death of fools and cowards ! Casimir ! 
Thou shalt not leave thy foes so fair a mark 
To aim their slanders at. 

Thank heaven ! there is a worthier, often sought 
By those like me, poor bankrupts of the heart, 
A soldier's death ! yes — yes, it shall be mine — 
Come to my thigh again ! {taking his sword,) 
With thee, old friend, I go to seek my grave 
Where death assumes its most alluring aspect — 
On the battle field ! 

Enter Basil, hastily. 

Bas. My lord, fly, fly ! your enemies are now 
Decreeing your destruction ! 

Cas. That, by my friends, has been decreed already. 

Bas. The Duke and Ten determine on your death. 

Cas. I have myself determined on my death. 

Bas. Hear me, my lord ; this moment as I went 
Unto the council chamber to surrender 
These to the Duke, (showing papers,) T overheard a scene — 

Cas. And I too, Basil, overheard a scene 
Hath caused this heart more poignant agony 
Than all the vengeance of the Duke and Ten 
Of torture could inflict ! 

Bas. My lord, vvhat can you mean"? 

Cas. I will not rack thy brain with riddles now — 
I 've been for the last hour within this chamber. 

Bas. Heavens ! can it be so ? My lord, I do confess ; 
Denial or defence I cannot make ; 
If thou decreest my death, I 'm ready now 
To die. 

Cas. Not half so ready, sir, as I — 
Think you F meant to slay you, gentle sir? 

Bas. It is your right ; my life is yours ; 
Take it, for I am weary of it nov/ I 



40 love's martyr. [Act V. 

Cas. Oh ! Basil — Basil — how I loved you, boy ! 
Words have no power to speak how I have loved you — 
My home, my heart, my fortune, all were yours ! 
You might have drawn upon me for my life, 
I would have given it willingly. 

All, all, but that ! 

Bas. {kneeling.) Spare me, my lord ! 
Here is my sword, and here my naked breast — 
Take it — take forth my life, but wound me not 
With your too just reproach. 

Cas. Put up thy guilty weapon, boy ! 
Within the bitter cup that I have drunk 
There's not one drop of vengeance ! 

Bas, Oh my too generous lord ! 
My lord ! {Pointing out.) 

Cas. She, too, poor bird ! — Retire a while, 
I 'd speak with her alone — but leave us not. 
I do entreat you stay a moment in 
The vestibule. [^Exit Basil, l. h. 

Enter Marinella. r. h. 

Cas. Marinella ! 

Mar. My lord ? 

Cas. Why do you start 1 

Mar. Your voice, my lord, was sudden — 
I knew not you were here. 

Cas. We are about to lose a most dear friend : 
Basil intends to leave us for a while : 
You've seen him — have you not] 

Mar. I have my lord : he has this moment been 
To bid farevvell to me. 

Cas. No doubt you will feel sad 
At his departure? 

Mar. Yes — sad, indeed — {aside.) I do my lord. 

Cas- 'Tis natural at parting with a friend ; 
One so endeared as Basil was to you. 

Mar. Would he would speak upon some other theme ! [Aside. 

Cas. I too regret the cause, , 

That carries him away from us. 

Mar. The cause, my lord? 

Cas. Oh — yes, he goes to France 
To better his condition — when I learnt 
The true cause of his leaving I did wish 
He might remain with us ; 'tis not too late, 
And I shall use entreaty to this end. 

Mar. No, no ! my lord 

Cas. No ] why not 1 

Mar. Why, that I would not see him lose so fine 
An opportunity of winning fame 
And fortune too— let him proceed, my lord I 



Scene 1..] love's martyr. 41 

Cas. Oh ! noble sacrifice of a pure woman's heart! 
Marinella 1 

Mar. My lord ] 

Cas. I have a tale for yon. 

Mar. What is' t, my lord? {They sit.) 

Cas. Far from the echoes of a troubled world, 
Within the soit embrace of vine-clad hills, 
There lay a sunny vale ; in whose warm lap 
Had art divine and nature more divine 
Poured out their wealth in very wantonness ! 
A valley of bright fields and emerald groves, 
Above whose glowing- foliage lordly towers 
Rose to the sapphire sky ! upon the ear 
There fell no sounds that were not musical — 
The songs of birds and bees and falling waters, 
The voice of Nature's God, as soft and sweet 
As when it thrilled through earth's first Paradise ! 
The winds were never rude — No storms came here, 
Alone the breeze from the blue Appenines 
Stole softly down among the perfumed trees. 
Filling the air with incense ! 
It was indeed a scene of loveliness 

And over all 
Hung a rich canopy of blue and gold — 
The sky of Italy I 

Mar. Oh ! sweet, sweet scene — how like our own dear home ! 

Cas. Within this vale, 
A maid of noble lineage had been reared ; 
She was indeed the ideal of her sex : — 
The bright embodiment of love itself! 
Of form so lovely, so divine a face. 
It seemrd as if the spirit of the place 
Had gendered her, from out its glowing flowers, 
To make the picture perfect! 

Mar. How beautiful ! 

Cas. This maiden had a brother, a brave youth ; 
Her father loo still lived, a good old man, 
'I'he sole possessor of all these fair scenes 
'Midst which they dwelt in innocence and peace. 
Unclouded as their skies ! 
A stranger came, from a far distant land, 
^nd sought this quiet vale — he soon became 
Its owner's welcome guest — companion of 
The maiden and her broiher; 
He was their elder, yet had never loved, 
For his young days had all been rudely spent 
Within the camp, or on the battle field — 

But the rare beauty of this glowing maid 
Soon made its image on his yielding heart : 
And he did love, as only they can love, 



4^ love's martyr. [Act V. 

Whose youth's and mandhood's flame have both been blent 

Into one burning passion ! 

He was not skilled in love's diplomacy, 

And knew not even how to woo the maid- 
He told the good old father of his love, 

Who wooed and won her for him : 

They were wed. 

She then was but a child and ill could know 

The nature of her vow ; but the old lord 

Fearing a malady that vexed him much, 

Desired thus soon to see bis daughter wedded. 

Close on the bridal morn the father died 

So suddenly, that there was no one near, 

Save his confessor, whom he gave in charge 

Confession, that the youth whom all the world 

Supposed his son, and brother of the maid. 

Was not his son, nor yet the maiden's brother ! 
Mar. How strange, my lord, how like — 
Cas. Nay, hear me, Marmella, to the end — 

This sad confession was made known to all 

The stranger lord, the maiden, and the youth ; 

But they had grown together three such friends, 

They would not part, but lived like as before 

In the sweet commune of the common hearth ! 

Now grows my tale more sad : 

In time, the maiden found within her heart 

A feeling undefined, which never yet 

Had centred there, or only as a dream : 

It soon became developed — it was love ! 

Love not for him whom she had vowed to love, 

But for the foster brother ! 

The youth too loved the maid ; Nature had placed 

The germ within their hearts, where it had lain 

Amidst the darkness of an erring fate 

Till nature called it forth to bud and bloom — 

Each sorrowed for this love ; each struggled hard 

To stifle it — when they had striven in vain, 

Lest that their friend should suffer from the thing, ^ 

Each then resolved to see the other one 

No more on earth : — they met at length to part ; 

'Twas then that first they knew each other's love 

Confessed at parting — parting when confessed — 

And without even a kiss, they spoke the sad, 
Sad word, farewell ! 

Meanwhile the husban.l, from some circumstance, 

Had grown suspicious of his young wife's love ; 

He was admonished when this parting scene 

Was to take place; 

And, leaving for a moment honor's path, became 

A witness to it all ! It broke his heart ! 



Scene 1.] love's martyr. 43 

{Marinella faints upon Casimir^s breast.) 
Cold as the marble from Carrara's mine 

Sweet — sweet — and cold ! (Kissing her.) Mine is a poor right 
To those cold kisses now ! Within there ! 

Enter Basil and Servant. 

Bas. My lord, I do conjure you, fly ! 
The dreaded menials of the Ten are now 
Even at the gates. 

Cas. Look there ! 

Bas. My lord 1 

Cas. Bear her to her chamber ! Basil, see to her, 
While I remain to speak these officers. 

[Exeunt Basil and Servants^ carrying off Marinella. 
Your errand, sirs ? {Enter officers.) 

First officer. We are the servants of the august Ten. 

Cas. 1 know 't— and know, too, there is death 
Within thy summons. Whom seek you here ) 

First officer. We are commanded to take 
The person of Lord Casimir, who stands charged 
With Treason 'gainst the State, and with the death 
Of Count CaraflTa. 

Cas. I am Lord Casimir : but give me leave 
To speak a word within, I'll go with you. . [Exitj l. 

Second officer. He may escape. 

First officer. He cannot for his life — there are others placed 
To guard the outward wall. 

Enters Casimir^ followed by Marinella^ Basil, Lorenzo, c^c. 

Mar. My lord ! my lord ! oh do not leave me thus ! 
I will do all that your wronged heart may wish — 
My duty and devotion shall be yours; 
Oh ! do not cast me off — my heart is breaking! 

Cas. It is a gleam of joy upon the grave ! 

It comes too late, but by its mellowing light 
I may die calmer ! 

Could love's poor victims only know of this, 
It miglit bring ease to many a bleeding heart ! 
Love unrequited feels not half its sting, 
When pity thus is poured into the w^ound. 
Oh ! I could almost live. 

Mar. Ah ! these men ! why are they here? 
Oh ! I remember now— oh ! heavens ! the Duke ! the Ten ! 
They shall not take thee hence : — no ! no ! 
They shall not ! I will die to save you ! 

Cas. Each moment now makes death more bitter — 
T had designed a nobler death than this, 
So thrust on me. 

Is there no way between 1 no middle course 
To save my neck from the vile headsman's axe, 



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